Becoming Nothing
by neppie
Summary: Prequel to Classic Stigma. The last act of the war, Luna and Harry are trapped within Voldemort's cell. Harry is ready to give up. Luna teaches him that there is something much more.


Title: Becoming Nothing  
_The Prequel to __Classic Stigma_  
Author: Nepenthe  
Genre: Angst  
Rating: R  
Summary: The last act of the war, Luna and Harry are trapped within Voldemort's cell. Harry is ready to give up. Luna teaches him that there is something much more.  
Author's Note: You can read Classic Stigma now or you can read this first. I doubt you'll be confused, because these can work very well as stand-alones. Special thanks to **rurounihime** for beta'ing and for everyone's supportive comments on this project and for loving Classic Stigma. You really mean the world to me. I'm very happy this is finished, but extremely nervous about it. I hope it will live up to your expectations. Thank you and I hope you enjoy.

Luna was lying next to him, her eyes closed with her legs stretched out and crossed, like she was enjoying a non-existent sun beating on her skin. The dungeon was cold and Harry shivered on his stomach, curling up within himself and maybe...just a little bit to Luna's warmth. She was picking at some of the dried blood on her lip, opening her eyes to stare up at the stone ceiling while she tapped a tune on the ground with her nails. They had lain in silence for quite some time, drawing up predictions of their torture and death repeatedly in their heads. At least, Harry was. He hoped though that Luna would not suffer much. She was, after all, just a soldier for light. She had committed no real crimes but to stand against Voldemort's armies. But when he looked at her, she seemed very calm about everything, like she had found some inner peace in their situation. Harry wished she would share it with him.

She closed her eyes again. "So, this is it."

"I'm sorry, Luna..." Harry started but she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him.

"I'm not."

Harry stared at her, stopping the task of chewing at his nails. She looked him over before reaching across the small space between them and taking his hand away from his mouth.

"You know, you ruin your teeth doing that," she chided good-naturedly, smiling like they were sharing dinner together in a restaurant full of candles and roses. But Harry couldn't seem to picture that with her. He couldn't smell any roses because he was too busy trying to ignore the scent of mold and wet pavement. He couldn't imagine candles lighting up the room and her features when it was just so dark.

"Are you scared?" he asked her honestly, trying to deliberately shatter her perfect world and bring her back to earth; deep under the ground where no one could hear them screaming.  
"No," she said. Harry's attempt failed as she continued to tap her nails on his hand, sharing with him the music she could hear in the back of her head. "I'm not afraid of death."

"Why?" Harry asked, shaking his head.

"What should I be afraid of, Harry?"

"You cease to exist!" Harry shouted, frustrated with her calm acceptance of all of this. "It's like...it's like being shut off!"

"And if you're shut off," Luna said, laughingly, "then how do you know you were on in the first place?"

"What's wrong with you?" Harry hissed, glaring at her from behind his broken glasses. "Why do you always speak in riddles? Why don't you fucking care?"

Luna stared at him, her wide eyes wider than ever before, and Harry knew he had gone too far. He mentally began to berate himself. After all, it wasn't Luna's fault they had been captured. It wasn't Luna who was going to kill them. Luna could be at headquarters right now, enjoying tea with Draco Malfoy. Or better yet, she could be at home, celebrating the Christmas holidays with her father instead of fighting a war with Voldemort. They could be happy. Yet Luna was here, being miserable and getting yelled at by stupid Harry Potter, and about to...die.

He was drawn away from his thoughts when Luna shifted and moved onto her side, using both hands to grip onto Harry's.

"Harry," she said softly, her voice void of the firm coldness that was reserved for when she was extremely angry. "When you think about death, what do you think about?"

"Darkness," Harry answered immediately, looking away from her stare. "I think about every memory, your existence, being ripped right away from you and then you're nothing."

"Nothing?" Luna echoed before nodding slowly. "Yes, nothing cannot think or feel. Nothing does not know there is something."

"And that's what is so depressing about it," Harry argued, rubbing his face with his free hand. "I like thinking and feeling. I like knowing that I'm breathing right now. I like knowing that there is something!"

"But when you become nothing, Harry," Luna explained patiently, "what you thought was a 'something' becomes a 'nothing' in the end."

Harry paused, staring at Luna. "Are you trying to comfort me?"

"In my weird, uncaring way," Luna said nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders, "...yes."

Harry winced. "I'm sorry. It's just that you're so frustrating sometimes."

"That's because I'm always right," Luna said in her best Hermione voice and Harry laughed weakly.

"I'm afraid that I'll be left behind," Harry said suddenly and Luna stirred beside him. He was lying on his back now and she had been idly carving into the dungeon walls with a broken rock. When he spoke, she turned to him with a flick of long hair that seemed to glow softly in the gloom around them.

"Pardon?" she said, tapping the rock next to her foot.

"Well," Harry said, slightly embarrassed. "I was thinking about what you said. I was actually thinking about what a lot of people have said to me over the years. Remus told me once that what I fear most is fear."

"That's not true," she said with such certainty that it made Harry look at her sharply. "You fear a great many things, Harry Potter."

Embarrassed and slightly angry with her for degrading him in such a way, he rolled away from her. "Just forget it."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, Harry trying to brew his anger up to great heights but failing miserably. It was hard to be mad at Luna; she looked at things so simply and yet so deeply that he didn't know what to expect from her. He also felt no energy for anger toward one of his best friends, who was trapped in Death's embrace with him; he didn't know when they would finally come for them and this time was all he had with her. But, Harry tried to think stubbornly, she didn't have to be so blunt with him.

Suddenly, Luna's hand was on his arm.

"Well, I'm afraid of funerals."

"Huh?" Harry said, turning onto his back again to look at her. Her cheeks were a little rosy and Harry realized that she was as embarrassed as he was.

"Well, funerals are silly. Everyone stands around a lost loved one and talks about how great he or she is, but they can't hear how much they will be missed. Shouldn't you tell this person how great they are before it's too late?" She said all of this like it was the most logical equation in the world.

"Where did you get that kind of idea?" Harry asked. He was careful not to say 'silly idea', because he was sure Luna would not appreciate being scuffed at. Even though she just did it to him.

"When my mother died," Luna said, "everyone wouldn't stop saying how great she was or talk about all the wonderful things she'd done in life. I knew she was a great person. They knew she was wonderful. But did she know that they thought she was the most special person in the world?"

Although Luna talked very logically about her lost mother, Harry could hear that creeping sadness in her voice. It was only noticeable because her shoulders seemed to slump a bit when she talked about things that upset her.

Luna moved and leaned against the wall, crossing her legs Indian-style. "It made me really angry. It wasn't fair that she never heard those things before she died. So, I'm afraid that when I die they'll do the same thing to me."

"You don't want them to?" Harry asked, chewing on his lip. Luna nodded firmly and Harry thought that what she said made a lot of sense. He wouldn't want people to talk how great he was, period. He already got that enough when he was alive. Harry decided he would want people to not say anything at all; just watch him be buried peacefully and move on.

"I'll make you a promise then," Harry said as he looked back at her. "I won't let anyone do that to you and you won't let anyone do that to me."

They smiled tightly at each other, because both of them knew that the likeliness of even one of them surviving was slim to nothing. It sat between them like a huge elephant, its overbearing presence weighing down on them. Yet, they did not say anything. It was still fine to hope that they might survive. It was still fine to pretend for each other that they would be breathing the next morning. So, they continued their little game and shook hands over the sealed promise.

"And Luna..." Harry started. "About what I said before..."

"About being left behind?" Luna asked, a little twinkle in her eyes and a smirk on her lips.

"Well, yeah..."

And Luna laughed cheerfully, chasing the elephant away from the room for a while.

"Being last isn't always the worst thing, Harry. At least that way you can see every mistake that people make in front of you."

Harry woke up from his restless sleep to the sound of some sort of banging. He opened his eyes slowly, peeking through the cracks of his glasses as he watched Luna prance in front of the bars of their dungeon, dragging the broken rock against the metal. She was practically dancing, her wildly colored skirt flying in each skip, and her messy hair chasing after her like a ghost in the night. Ten skips to one side of the cell, she would spin around with arms open wide, and than proceed to the other side, mouthing the words to a song Harry wasn't privileged to hear. He braced himself on his elbow, watching her for a while, and trying to make sense of the madness. After a couple of moments, Harry found his fingers tapping the tune on his hand that Luna had traced hours before. He stared down at his dirty palms before drawing his eyes up again to watch Luna prance around in what looked like pathetic boredom...but was actually her way of chasing away the demons only she could see.

"I like it when you do that," Harry found himself saying. Luna wasn't even startled to hear him speak. She made one more prance around the room before spinning, grinning at him, and dashing to his side. She collapsed in a heap before him, a tangle of long, graceful limbs and hair, before she situated herself in her favorite position, Indian-style. She beamed at him, her eyes shining, and leaned forward.

"I like your glasses," she said back, seeming amused by something. It took Harry a moment to realize she had just made up a game and he smirked faintly back at her.

"I like your honesty," he replied slowly, embarrassed to reveal that truth, as much as he hated her for it sometimes.

"I admire your loyalty," she shot back immediately. It made Harry think that she had been thinking about this game, about these answers, for a very long time and just waiting for the opportunity to deliver them.

"I love how you always strive to be different," Harry said. It seemed to be easier to tell her that than before.

"I love how you always wish you were the same," she grinned.

"I love your eyes..."

"I love your smile."

"Why?" Harry sputtered, confused. She smiled slowly, but the happiness did not reach her eyes. Instead, it made them look dreamier, like she was staring at something Harry would never see in himself.

"Because it's so rare," she replied, honest as always. He stared at her, feeling like he should be uncomfortable, but finding himself at ease. She reached forward after a moment and ran a dirty thumb along the bottom of his lip; Harry stopped from pulling away, reminding himself that Luna had no restraints against physical contact.

"Your smile," Luna said softly, her eyes seeming so far, far away, staring at something Harry wished he could see. He wanted to see what she was looking at when she saw him, beg her to show him what it was that had enraptured her attention. It was almost frustrating not knowing what it was and it came in a painful ache in his chest of being left out of some sort of secret.

"Your soul is in your smile, Harry."

He took a slow breath. His soul?

"Only a few can see it, but for those who can…they are all that matter." She leaned in close, so close that he was sure she was going to steal a kiss but she stopped with just a small measure between them. They stared eye to eye; Harry didn't need his glasses to see the light grey around her pupils, they were so close.

"Remember that, Harry."

It wasn't a request. It wasn't a command. It was an echo that banged in Harry's head and made his temples ache as he found himself sealing another promise without a word.

"But if I don't," Harry said roughly, trying for sarcasm, but his voice cracked and it leaked away, "you'll always be there to remind me. Right, Luna?"

She smiled again, and the smile seemed to break a dam for the sadness to pour in. Harry refused to acknowledge it.

"Of course, Harry."

They came when Harry was sleeping. Physical hands ripping him from his dreams, they grabbed Harry and raised him into the air. Harry fought them, of course. Kicking and yelling, throwing fists at their masked faces, still too afraid to show themselves to the Boy Who Lived. When that failed to slow them down, Harry did the only thing he could do. He started screaming for Luna. Started screaming for her like she was his mother, and clawing out between their dark bodies to find her. Eventually he did. He felt her hand grasp his and squeeze, trying to drag herself with him and Harry helping her to do so. He didn't want to go alone, he knew. He didn't want to face this all by himself. He wanted Luna to die with him; he wanted to die with someone and not all alone with Voldemort laughing over his corpse. But as he thought this, clasped onto Luna's cold fingers, he immediately regretted doing so. He should have been relieved that Luna might have a few hours left to live. He should have been thankful that they were only going to torture him and probably serve Luna a quick death. But he wasn't. He wasn't and that was probably the worst thing of all.

So, Harry let go.

But he didn't stop screaming her name, like some holy mantra begging for forgiveness for those thoughts, for those wishes that she would die by his side.

And like a swift pardon that echoed off those cold walls, Luna was screaming his name back.

Harry was tied down on a table for a long time before someone finally came to check up on him. He stiffened when he heard their footsteps coming, closing his eyes. Surely, they were going to torture him now. They were going to put curses on him, tear him to small pieces, and then let Voldemort finish him off. He vowed he would not scream.

"Good evening, Potter," someone said above him, and he could hear the swish of robes being moved. "We have something for you."

Harry closed his eyes tighter and held his breath. He would not scream.

"Exustio."

Harry slowly opened his eyes after a moment when he felt nothing. He started to lift his head from the table he was tied facedown on, but someone slapped a hand behind his head and slammed it back onto the cold surface.

"Don't worry, Potter," a Death Eater whispered in his ear. "It's coming."

"What did you do?" Harry had to know.

"Just wait. And see."

Harry waited. All he felt was heat.

He would not scream.

He would not.

He would not scream!

But it was so hard.

It had started small; Harry noticed the sweat underneath his arms and on his back building. He desired nothing more than water on his parched tongue. But then it began to itch along his lower neck. An itch that he could not scratch with bonded wrists, an itch that refused to disappear no matter how much he writhed to get rid of it. He tried to distract himself, put himself far beyond the current moment, but the prickle called him back and made him pant.

"How do you feel, Potter?"

Harry could not spare the breath to reply, nor did he have enough moisture in his mouth to manage a word. Instead he put his sweating forehead against the table and wished it were colder than it already was. That was when Harry smelled it; something more rank than mold and something more horrifying than decay. At first, he could not pinpoint what it was exactly because his brain was sluggish after each heat wave that washed over him. But there it was, the realization slipping through the cracks, and Harry jerked on his bonds in shock.

It was the smell of burning flesh.

That was when the pain came.

Harry choked on his quick intake of breath, coughing painfully with eyes open wide as the burning sensation spread across his back. At first, he thought he could take it. It wasn't so bad. But it just kept getting worse. It burned, it burned so bad, and Harry strained the ropes tying him down, trying to pull away.

A mouth was near his ear, whispering to him, and just barely heard over that crack and sizzle of his burning flesh. He vowed not to scream and Harry sucked in his bottom lip.

"There we are, Potter," the Death Eater whispered to him. "This is called the Burning Curse."

Oh GOD, it was melting the fabric of his jumper, it was so hot, so hot-

"It will soon consume your entire body."

Harry was sure his back had to be on fire, flames had to be leaping off of his back, it hurt, dear fuck it HURT.

"And burn you from the inside out."

Harry's lungs were trembling; he was taking in quick breaths, shaking his head. He wretched at his bonds, started twisting his body around in pain, and opened his mouth. He vowed not to scream. He swore he would not give them the satisfaction. But he couldn't hold it in, couldn't stop it, and soon his scream was echoing off those walls, pouring out of him like vomit.

The pain grew and Harry wished he were dead. Especially when he heard the laughter echoing back at him.

Harry was never allowed to pass out. The pain came and went, just like the Death Eaters who came to spit on him and leave again. They still never removed their hoods around him.

It had been a very long time since someone had come into his chamber and the pain was beginning to build again on his back…he was beginning to feel it go lower and move faster. He couldn't even imagine what his back looked like…

"Finite Incantium!"

Harry gasped, lifting his head quickly, and his vision swam.

"Solvo." The ties unwrapped from his wrists and fell uselessly to the floor.

"Luna!"

When Harry finally got to look at Luna, he was dismayed to see blood on her lip. It was coming from a wound unseen, probably inside her mouth, and slowly seeping out to cover her bottom lip.

"Are you all right?" he asked, a suspicious thought of how Luna had received the wound trickling in his head.

"Yes," she said, her eyes chipping away the blue stone they had become. "Can you walk?"

"We can't get out of here, Luna." Harry shook his head, staring at her bloody lips and feeling his throbbing back. But the building pain had stopped.

"Of course we can," she said plainly, shaking her head back at him. She grasped his hand and pulled him off the table. His knees gave way from pain, and she caught him around the waist, stumbling herself.

"We can, Harry."

Harry pulled away and that was when he noticed the wands clenched in her fist.

"How did you get those?"

"I think they are collecting wands for a potion," she said, handing Harry his wand, which he weakly held onto it. When it nearly slipped out of his fingers, she took it back.

"Stripping the wood to the core of the wands," she continued, looking down at them. "And putting them all together."

"How many wands do they have?"

She didn't look at him. "Thousands."

"How do you know that? How did you find ours?" Harry asked, incredulous.

This time she smiled dryly, looking up at him through her wavy bangs.

"Someone must have a very strong need to be catalogued and organized."

"Voldemort?"

"Could be his hobby," Luna joked, a little giggle with a hysterical tint escaping from her.

Harry tried to ignore it, just as he desperately ignored the blood on her teeth.

"Luna-"

"I'm fine," she said immediately.

"Luna…"

"I said I'm fine!" When he reached for her, she surprised him when she knocked his hands away from her. For one split second, Harry could see the barrier that wasn't there before; it was weak, it was frightened, and Harry hated it. He hated it more than he hated Voldemort; he hated the reason it was there more than his body could handle. He reached for her again, fought her when she fought him, and drew her close to his chest in desperation. She yelled at him, beat against his chest, but never at his back where the real wounds lay. Soon she wasn't screaming at him, but just yelling as she clenched onto his sweater, crying into his chest that made his insides reverberate. She did not shed tears; she never did cry for herself.

"Luna…"

She didn't answer him; only tightened her fists upon his person. Harry sighed, letting his head fall into her hair.

"I love you."

She stilled for a moment, Harry could feel it. He was so focused upon her frozen figure that he missed the few wet spots that fell upon the fabric of his shirt.

"Thank you," she whispered to him.

Perhaps it was shock that had helped Harry this far. Perhaps his body had completely shut down after awhile of being inflicted from the Burning Curse. Whatever it was, it stopped Harry from feeling much pain from his burnt back as they made their way up staircases, tons, and tons of staircases that never seemed to end. But it faded away quickly and left Harry gasping and his eyes thick with unshed tears. He was trying to follow Luna, but his knees were shaking – literally shaking and knocking into each other with each step he took. Sometimes they gave out and Harry stumbled. Luna helped him back to his feet again and ordered for him to keep walking. Dear God, he wanted to. He wanted to get out of here just as bad as she did. But his body wouldn't comply with him anymore and he fell without warning, landing hard on his hands and knees.

"Harry-"

"I can't do it, Luna," Harry sobbed on his hands and knees, body swaying in defeat.

"You can't do it?" Luna repeated, standing in front of him, gripping their wands.

"I can't…I can't-" Why couldn't she see how hopeless it was? Why couldn't she see that they had lost?

Luna was silent for a moment, but when she spoke, her voice was hard. In anger.

"No," she said, her silhouette nodding. "No, a first year couldn't face fully trained wizard traps and puzzles. A first year couldn't face Voldemort and survive."

Harry trembled, digging his nails into the stone beneath him.

"A second year couldn't find the Chamber of Secrets and risk his life facing a basilisk for a little girl."

"Luna, stop," Harry begged, closing his eyes tighter.

"A third year could not use a Time Turner to save the lives of his godfather and a hippogriff and then contain himself from using that power to capture Peter Pettigrew when he had the chance."

Harry shook his head, crying loudly.

"A fourth year could not enter a fixed tournament, face all those trials, and survive when trapped by Voldemort and his army. A fourth year would not think to grab the body of a fallen student."

He didn't want to hear anymore, he didn't want to hear any more of those stupid things.

"A fifth year was not ready for the truth of his destiny, even after all those heroic things, and certainly could not fly off to the Ministry to save his godfather. A fifth year could not have the strength to live with himself after sacrificing his father's friend."

"STOP!" Harry screamed, fury throbbing his temples. "HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT SIRIUS-"

"A sixth year couldn't ever fight the darkness within himself when plagued with thoughts of revenge and anger!" Luna screamed back. Harry immediately shrank back. "Revenge against them! Against the people who took the ONLY thing he had left!"

Her last word echoed around them and made Harry shudder violently.

"That same sixth year couldn't have put that aside to give himself over to the Death Eaters with the threat of the school being attacked! That sixth year couldn't have survived and escaped!"

Luna never yelled. Luna never screamed.

"A seventh year could not be old enough to lead a mission during Christmas break to save the Order and draw the attention to himself and be captured again!"

"Luna, please, just stop…"

She was kneeling next to him and her lips were suddenly pressed against his ear in harsh anger.

"Is that what they tell you, Harry Potter? That you cannot do those things? Is that what you believe?"

"I can't-I can't, Luna," Harry begged, trying to turn his head away. She grabbed him, jerked his head towards her, and shook him until he opened his eyes.

"If you can do all those things, Harry Potter, then you can do this!" She yelled. "You can get up!"

"All those times, I had help!" He yelled back at her, trying to get away from her. She refused to let go. "Every time, I had help!"

Luna was silent again, but she was moving. An arm circled underneath one of his and started to pull him to his feet.

"If help is what you want, Harry," she said as they stood up, her eyes hard on his face. "Then you have it."

"Harry! Harry, watch out!"

Harry's head jerked up, too late, as a heavy body slammed into him. He landed on his back and screamed. Writhing in pain, he fought the Death Eater off of him, whose hands had found their way around his throat. Harry felt scabs being torn and broken; blood starting to soak through his shirt, into the grass, as he scrambled to get free. His eyes leaked with tears behind his broken glasses, nails digging underneath the Death Eater's hood and into the skin he could not see.

"Stupefy!" Luna cried in the distance and the Death Eater went flying she was holding Harry's fallen wand. Quickly, she changed to her own. "Stupefy! Stupefy!" She screamed frantically and the Death Eater stilled.

"This is the end, you stupid boy!" Voldemort hissed as he stood up. Immediately, the cold came for Harry and he stumbled up, ignoring the pain radiating off his back. Voldemort raised his wand, red eyes gleaming brightly underneath his hood.

"Luna! Luna, my wand-" Harry cried frantically, palm open in desperation, but it was too late.

"Lacer Corporus!" Voldemort screamed, not the spell Harry was expecting. He was frozen as the red light came for him, hand still outstretched for his wand, and he could not close his eyes in dread for what was coming. Then the red light disappeared and it took Harry a moment to realize what happened, as silver hair licked his cheek. Time seemed to slow down for Harry as he lowered his eyes; he could not see Luna's face. He could see her hair though, swarming behind her in frozen movement, and shrouding them in a silver curtain that reminded Harry painfully of the Patronus charm. Her fingertips were just lightly touching his shoulders, barely grasping onto him before the spell hit. One of his arms was wrapping around her waist in reaction, something he didn't realize he was doing until it was nearly around her. Then time sped up again, slapping them forcefully, and they flew backward; Luna's arms finished wrapping around his neck as they soared through the air, and Harry clutched onto her waist in desperation. They flipped a couple of times, then landed heavily back on the ground with Luna beneath him. During all of this, she was screaming but was cut short as they landed, her agony hiccupping back into her chest. The ends of her hair were thick with blood and Harry knew it was not his own.

"Luna! Luna, oh God, Luna, are you all right?" Harry screamed, scrambling up off of her, but the arms around his neck would not let him go. They were tense in pain, trembling violently, and holding onto life as it poured out of her in a puddle around them. Harry stared in horror at the deep gash along her stomach that went all the way through to her back; he could feel the cut with his fingers, still around her waist. Frantically, hands soaked with blood, Harry removed one to grab Luna's hair and push it away from her face. She was gasping, withering in his arms, and stared at him with eyes wider then he had ever seen. Her legs were twisting below her, digging her heels into the dirt in anguish and scraping away the grass as she continued to lose her grip on the surface, until the pain became too much and she couldn't move them any longer.

"It's all right, Luna, just hold still-" Harry mumbled desperately, gripping onto the back of her head, letting the hair soak up the blood from his hand.

"My gift," she gasped out, her legs trembling. Her arms tightened around him as a wave of agony coursed through her. "My gift, Harry."

"I...I don't understand-" Harry choked out desperately, his own chest beginning to heave in synchronizion with Luna's, and tears were falling from his eyes and filling his glasses. He released Luna's hair to grab them and toss them across the yard; he was close enough to see her anyway.

"He can't hurt you," Luna gasped out, her chest heaving each word like it was being ripped from her. Her legs were scrambling against the ground again, as if searching for a foothold. Suffering tore out of her mouth, shuddering against Harry, and he wiped the blood from her lips, streaking it across her pale skin. She stared at him, her eyes darkening, until suddenly they grew bright again. She let go of his neck and slapped a hand forcefully onto his chest, her fingers splayed over his heart.

"Kill him-with! this!" Luna screamed at him, her eyes wide. Her fingers started to curl and dig into his chest, as if trying to rip out his heart to save her departing life. They were trembling wildly, barely holding onto him, and Harry clutched her shaking hand in desperation to make it stop. Their encircled fingers trembled together instead.

"Luna, don't die, please don't die," Harry begged, squeezing her fingers. They felt bloodless in his hand. All of her blood was pooled around them instead.

"My sacrifice," Luna said, her voice suddenly small and devoid of the pain that was there seconds ago. Her eyes were fading fast and Harry felt a scream building in his throat. "My gift..."

"Take it back!" Harry screamed. "I don't want it. Take it back!"

Her lips trembled upwards into a smile, dead and dry, before a gasp broke free and faded.

"Harry! Harry-" Luna called desperately, her arm clenching onto him.

"What? What is it, Luna?" Harry cried, his cheeks soaked with tears. She was pulling herself to him and he helped her; cradled her into his drenched lap as she hugged him...

"I love you," she whispered, her body shaking as she died in his arms. "I love you, I love you so much-"

"Luna!" Harry screamed as she gave her last shudders to him.

"Love...Love will kill him, Harry," she whispered to him, choking blood out onto his neck, and then she suddenly stopped moving. Like a long-held sigh finally being released, she handed off her weight for him to hold; something that Harry had embraced onto many times, but suddenly felt entirely alien to him. Her arm, devoid of strength…or something that Harry was refusing to acknowledge…slipped off his neck and, with a thud that echoed loudly around them, landed on the wet ground. He sat there for a moment, staring at their intertwined fingers…at his fingers clenching onto Luna's that were slowly curling upward to the sky. That was all he needed to slap him into reality.

"LUNA!" Harry screamed furiously, pulling her back, trying to shake her awake. "Luna, wake up! Goddamnit, wake up, you fucking stupid idiot!"

Her hair licked his cheek one last time as he dropped her suddenly to the ground.

"LUNA!" Harry screamed, punching the ground near her head. "LUNA, YOU COME BACK RIGHT NOW! I HATE YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME? I HATE YOU! I'LL HATE YOU FOREVER IF YOU DON'T COME BACK TO ME!"

Luna said nothing.

"LUNA!" Harry yelled, his voice choking. "Luna! Luna! Luna...Goddamnit, Luna..."

.Fin.


End file.
